


Muddy Waters

by MrsJohnReese



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnReese/pseuds/MrsJohnReese
Summary: Cecilia Miller thought that moving back home after her husband's death would be the answer to her prayers, bringing her back to her brother and his family when she needed them most. But unspeakable tragedy will soon strike again, forcing her to question not only a man she thought she knew better than she knew herself, but her own future as well. A. Hardy/OC
Relationships: Alec Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Bad News

(18 July, 2013)

"Ced, love, you ready to go?"

"Nearly."

"How ready is 'nearly'?" Cecilia inquired, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she tugged her jacket over her shoulders while heading to the hallway that led from the kitchen to both her room, and her son's, "You're going to need to be a bit more specific."

"Ready," Cedric called, a soft thump echoing down the hall before he emerged from his bedroom, backpack slung over one shoulder, and trainers in hand, "You're the one who overslept, anyways…"

"Never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not in a million years."

"Right. Well go on and grab your lunch, and we'll be off," Cecilia instructed, reaching out to ruffle her son's dark curls, and grinning as he playfully swatted away her hand while she turned to follow him back into the kitchen for her tea. Since their arrival in Broadchurch, they had settled into a sort of routine, barring one or the other of them over-sleeping, of course, and in spite of the circumstances behind the move in the first place. In truth, it felt good to be back home, so to speak, after what felt like ages away. She had her family, now—Ced had his cousin—they were no longer relatively alone in the States, with no one to turn to for help, should they really need it.

All in all, she supposed, it had been a good decision. She just wished that Adrian could have been a part of the move, as well.

Shaking her head before she could become too distracted by such thoughts, however, Cecilia chose instead to fix her attention upon the thermos of tea she had placed upon the kitchen counter, one hand reaching for it while Cedric simultaneously appeared at her side once more, lunch bag in tow. It was clear, just by the expression he wore, that he had noticed the slight downturn in her thoughts, though he said nothing about it outright yet. But, before he could change his mind, as his expression indicated he so clearly wanted to do, Cecilia forced a tentative smile to her lips, her arm looping through her son's as she drew him to her side, and they moved together toward the front door.

"When do you plan to stop growing? You're near as tall as me, already," She teased, somewhat pleased that her attempt at diverting her boy from his apparent concern had worked, as an answering smile graced his lips before he replied.

"Never. Not my fault you're short, Mum."

"Oh, thanks for that. I could make you walk to school you know."

"You could. But you won't," Cedric grinned, slipping his arm away from his mother's grasp, and jogging towards the car as Cecilia made to swat at his shoulder by means of good-natured retaliation, "You love me too much."

"Do I?"

"Mhmm. And I think I have a way to prove it."

"Oh, you do?" Cecilia mused, once again chewing at her lip to forestall her laughter over her son's antics, and pausing with a hand upon the car door to await his reply.

"Yep. I'll accept I'm wrong if you don't turn up at Aunt Ellie's later on with fish and chips for dinner because you know it's my favorite."

"Well I'm glad to know you're so confident, Ced."

"I am because it's true."

"Well I suppose we'll just have to see about that, now won't we?" Cecilia quipped, knowing full-well that she likely would be obtaining the aforementioned fish and chips after her shift at the hospital, whether she cared to admit that outright or not, "Go on, love, get in the car. We really will be late if you don't."

Watching as Ced nodded and stowed his backpack and lunch bag in the back seat of the car, before he clambered inside, himself, Cecilia soon followed suit, stowing the thermos of tea in the cupholder, before settling herself in the driver's seat, and placing the keys in the ignition. Within seconds, the engine was whirring to life, and they were backing down the driveway to head off down the road, Cecilia's free hand drifting to the radio dial while Cedric almost immediately took to the task of humming along to the first song that came through the speakers. Once again, a smile rose to her lips, her eyes meeting her son's for a moment in the rearview mirror before she was redirecting them back to the road ahead. And, not for the first time, Cecilia found herself more than grateful for the closeness that had come to be between them even before the unthinkable had happened, her own humming joining Cedric's as she took the turn that would lead through town, and to the school beyond.

They had each other. They would always have each other, and that was all that really mattered.

…

"Hey—Miller—been looking for you," A voice called out, effectively diverting Cecilia's attention from her investigation of a patient's chart as she looked up from the clipboard held in both hands to meet the eyes of her fellow resident and dear friend, Mary Richardson, instead, "Jim's been all over the floor tryin' to find you."

"Sorry—only just got a spare moment. What is it?"

"Your sister in law has been tryin' to ring you. Has been since you went into surgery," Mary informed, taking note of the almost immediate paling in the skin of Cecilia's cheeks, and instinctively reaching out a hand to squeeze her coworker's arm by way of providing reassurance, "Just asked you give her a shout whenever you're free."

"What, she didn't say why she needed me?"

"No, she didn't. Just that she wanted to hear from you as soon as she could."

"Right. Can you—would you take care of room three-oh-four, then? She still needs intake paperwork done, and I was just about to start," Cecilia began, intimately aware of how her hands had begun to shake while she handed over the chart, and lifted one of them to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She could not explain it—the sudden sense of dread that coiled in her stomach no matter how many times she tried to brush this off as just a last minute request to take Tom after school, or something equally as innocuous as that. But before she could seek any more in the way of reassurance from her colleague, or herself, Cecilia found herself brought back to the here and now by the gentle pressure of Mary's hand upon her forearm as warm green eyes searched her own in time with her consent to take the chart off her hands.

"Of course. Go on."

"Thank you, Mary—I—I owe you one."

"Don't mention it. Let me know how things go, yeah?"

Only able to manage a nod in response, Cecilia hurried towards the end of the hall, and the sliding glass doors therein while her hand fished in her scrubs' pocket for her cell, her heart pounding away at a mile a minute as though some invisible terror were dead on her heels. Almost immediately, she had dialed Ellie's number, only coming to a stop when she had skirted through the sliding glass doors and stood off to the side, where a number of doctors and nurses were known to occasionally take a smoke break. And within a few rings, her sister in law had already picked up, her words coming in a rush before Cecilia even had a chance to say hello.

"Cissy—listen, I—I need you to get to Mark and Beth's straight away. They—we need you."

"Why? Has—has something happened?" Cecilia inquired, gripping her phone even tighter in the wake of the renewed trembling in her hands, while her free hand lashed out to connect with the back of a nearby bench, "Ellie, is it something with—with Tom, or Ced?"

"No. No, it's not them. It's—"

"It's who? Dammit, Ellie, you're torturing me, here."

"It's Danny," was Ellie's reply, her words somehow sounding hollow over the phone, though that did not stop them from forcing the breath from Cecilia's lungs so quickly that she had to lean upon the bench so that her legs did not give way beneath her, "He—he's dead, Cissy. Please, I need you to come right away—"

"Okay. I—okay," Cecilia choked out, blinking against the tears that had already started to sting at her eyes, and turning to head back inside, only to stop at the last possible moment as she realized Ellie appeared to have neglected to mention what on earth they were to do about their boys if they were both preoccupied at Mark and Beth's.

"What about—Ellie, what about our boys?"

"Joe's going to get them after school. I've asked him not to—not to tell them until we get back to mine."

"Okay," Cecilia repeated, walking on shaking limbs back towards the doors of the hospital, and hoping beyond hope that she would wake at any moment to find this was all just the start of a very bad dream, "I'll—I'll see you soon."

In a sort of trance, Cecilia disconnected the call and stowed her cell in the pocket of her scrubs once more, her stomach heaving as she tried to come to terms with what she was about to do. Dimly, as though from the opposite end of a very long tunnel, memories of another phone call that ended in tragedy had resurfaced in her mind, causing her breath to come in short gasps as she maneuvered her way through the halls of the hospital without really realizing what she was doing. She ought to be telling someone she was leaving. That something had happened and she was needed urgently elsewhere. But somehow, in the midst of all the turmoil that had erupted in her mind, Cecilia was seemingly incapable of doing anything other than going to the locker room to grab her bag and leave as soon as she could, the sensation that if she stayed within the hospital walls for one more second she would lose her mind becoming prominent as her fast-paced walk soon turned into an all-out run.

Even not knowing that this was only the beginning of the end, Cecilia was bound and determined to stand by her friend's side in the wake of what had happened, just as Beth had stuck by her when she had lost the love of her life…

She owed the woman nothing less.

…


	2. The Beginning

Pulling into Mark and Beth Latimer's driveway, Cecilia cut the engine to her car, and leaned her head back against the seat, her heart hammering away against her ribcage as she tried and failed to take a few deep breaths. In truth, the only reason she had been able to avoid breaking down on the drive over was the knowledge that if she did, she would hardly be able to see clearly enough to make the journey on her own. But, now that she had arrived, she seemed completely incapable of stalling the tears any longer, her shoulders starting to shake as she brought her hands up to cover her eyes.

She could not go in there—into that house, like this. Cecilia knew that as well as she knew her own name. But inasmuch as she wanted to be able to be strong for Beth, she could not quite stop herself from reliving her own grief, a muted oath passing her lips as she bit back another sob, and wiped at her eyes as though she could somehow make it appear as though she had not spent the entire drive fighting against her tears. She should not be thinking of Adrian—of the exact reason why she and Cedric had left the States and come back to Broadchurch in the first place. Not now.

Now, she needed to pull herself together, and do what she could to help her friend.

Glancing in the rearview mirror one final time, and swiping beneath her eyes once again in hopes of removing the traces of mascara that would betray her decision to succumb to her tears, Cecilia exhaled in a rush and forced herself to open the driver's side door and get out of the car, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she locked the door behind her and headed towards the front door of her best friend's home. She could feel her hands beginning to shake, no matter how fiercely she tried to stop it. But, before she could lose her nerve entirely, Cecilia reached out a hand to knock upon the door, another sharp breath whistling through her nose as she rocked back on her heels and did her best to reign in her emotions.

No matter what, she absolutely would not allow her own memories to take away from the horror Beth was experiencing, right now.

Within seconds, it seemed, the woman in question had opened the door, her eyes brimming with tears as she uttered a strangled little gasp, and almost immediately pulled Cecilia inside, and into an embrace, her entire body trembling with the weight of her sobs. Instinctively, Cecilia wound her arms around her friend's shaking frame, pulling her close, and running one hand in what she hoped was a soothing pattern up and down Beth's back. It was taking all that she had to maintain her own composure, when her best friend was falling apart in her arms. But, just as she had begun to fear she would be incapable of restraining the renewed sting of tears at the backs of her eyes, Ellie was there, somehow managing to gently extricate her two friends from one another's arms so they could all proceed into the den, where Mark and Chloe were already seated upon the sofa. Beth sank into her own seat beside her husband, seeming to curl in on herself as he drew her to his side, and she relinquished Cecilia's hand while her mother sat on her other side. And that left Cecilia to perch on the arm of the sofa alongside Chloe, the blonde's hand automatically reaching for, and twining through her own as she leaned her head against Cecilia's arm.

"And this is?"

Startled by the sound of the voice, as she had been entirely too occupied with allowing Chloe to settle comfortably against her while sending what she hoped was an empathetic smile Mark's way, Cecilia finally allowed herself the liberty of glancing towards the source of the inquiry, her eyes widening just a bit as she realized Ellie had not, in fact, arrived to inform the family alone. Truthfully, she ought to have known, particularly as her experience with the police in the States had always been with a pair of partners, never just one person on their own. But somehow, her delayed discovery of the man's presence still threw her off her guard, one brow quirking up before she could stop it as though she had suddenly decided to dare the man to tell her she had no right to be exactly where she was.

"Cecilia Miller. I'm a friend of the family."

"Miller—" The man repeated, his brows drawing together as he turned to look at Ellie when she chose to sit in the chair beside his own.

"My sister-in-law, yeah. She, Beth and I have been friends for years," Ellie explained, seeming to sense the implied questioning of the reason behind the other woman's presence when she was not, technically, immediate family.

"She can stay."

Grateful for Beth's surprisingly firm interjection, Cecilia spared a faint smile for her friend's benefit, the slight twitch at the corner of Beth's mouth in response serving as acknowledgement of the gesture before she was squaring her shoulders, and glancing back at the only other man in the room to repeat her instruction a second time, "She's family. She stays."

"Right. Well," The man grunted, casting one final, wary glance towards Cecilia before shifting in the chair he occupied to turn his focus to the Latimers instead, "I'm Detective Inspector Alec Hardy, and you know DS Miller. The—body of a young boy was found—"

"It's Danny, isn't it? I saw his shoes," Beth interrupted, her voice breaking over the words while she clung to Mark's hand as though it was a lifeline, and he attempted to divert her from what she so clearly believed to be true.

"Plenty of kids have those shoes. Sorry—you talk," He said, turning to face Hardy once again, only to find that his efforts to reassure his wife were in vain as soon as the older man replied.

"We believe it is Danny's body."

In response to the words, unwelcome as they may have been, Beth sagged once more in Mark's embrace, silent sobs wracking her shoulders while she held on to her husband for dear life, and he drew Chloe against his other side, as well. In lieu of continuing to cling to Cecilia's hand, the young girl seemed rather more inclined to mirror her mother's actions and curl against her father, instead. And, having nothing now to do to distract herself from her own feelings over the reality of their situation, Cecilia found herself suddenly incapable of staying put, her legs straightening as she stood so quickly that she swayed a little on her feet, and realized the sudden movement had drawn everyone's attention towards her.

"I—sorry. I'll just—I'll go make tea," She stammered, skirting around the sofa, and pausing only long enough to return the squeeze Ellie gave her hand in passing before disappearing from the room, into the kitchen, instead. She hated herself for this—for falling apart when her friend needed her, and all because the conversation taking place was remarkably similar to the one she had endured, herself, almost two years ago, to the day. But the longer she stayed in that room, particularly without the somewhat steadying weight of Chloe's hand in her own to divert her attention from the past, the more it had felt as though she could no longer breathe.

She could not—would not—break in front of her friend, and so she had done the only thing she could think of to prevent precisely that from happening, her hands trembling a bit as she rifled around in Beth's cupboards to locate the tea bags, and grabbed the kettle from the stove to boil water.

Grateful for the routine nature of the task, Cecilia took the time on her own to attempt to reorganize her thoughts, only to find the task was nearly impossible no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't imagine it, what Beth and Mark were facing. To her, it seemed impossible that they could lose their little boy and still carry on living. After all, she was no stranger to exactly how a death like that could tear a family apart, what with how Adrian's parents had reacted when he died. They blamed her. They still blamed her, in fact, no matter what she said or did to try and make them believe she could never have done anything even remotely harm her husband in any way. If she had only been home—if she hadn't been so driven in her career—the list of reasons why the fault should reside at her door seemed endless, and what made it worse was that she had already come up with those reasons all on her own.

And, from the snippets of the conversation she could still hear from the den, Beth had already started to do much the same when it came to Danny.

Swallowing past the lump that had formed in response to her best friend taking even one shred of the blame for what had happened to her son, Cecilia turned to lean back against the counter while she waited for the water in the kettle to come to a boil, her shoulders curving just a bit as she folded her arms around her waist and dug her fingernails into the skin of her palms in hopes the slight twinge of pain could keep the sobs that wanted so fiercely to break free at bay. She would be no use to her friend if she continued to let herself be dragged into the past, and her own feelings. And so, she forced herself to stare at the tiling of the Latimer's kitchen floor as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world while she did her best to clear her mind of absolutely anything that was not relevant to what she was doing at this precise moment. It was the self-same technique she had often used prior to going into surgery, to allow herself the chance to focus upon one task at a time without the added pressures presented by extraneous details.

She could only hope it would eventually work this time, much the same as it had in the past.

Distracted, such as she was, by such things, Cecilia did not actually register the shrill whistle of the tea kettle when it began to sound, her eyes still riveted upon the tiling of the floor as she focused upon steadying her breathing. Mercifully, she had been successful, at least for the moment, her heartrate slowing to a less harried pace while she closed her eyes, and felt her muscles slowly beginning to relax.

Or at least they were relaxing until the sound of footsteps reached her ears as someone approached the kitchen, likely drawn by the sound of the now screaming tea kettle that she had only just taken note of, herself.

"Shit," She murmured, hurrying to turn off the stove and remove the kettle from the burner so she could pour the now scalding liquid into the cups she had set aside with teabags already secured inside, only to find herself very nearly dropping the kettle altogether as a familiar voice reached her ears.

"You alright, Cissy?"

"I—yeah. I'm fine," Cecilia assured, finishing with the task of pouring the tea, and replacing the kettle upon the stove so she could shove one of her hands through her hair as Ellie replied.

"But you're not, are you? This is all—it's taking you back to—"

"Don't, Ellie. Please."

"Well it's very reasonable that it would be," Ellie persisted, stepping towards Cecilia in a show of reaching for two of the cups of tea steeping upon the counter, though her true motive appeared to be getting close enough to address her sister-in-law in a slightly hushed tone to avoid their conversation carrying out to the other room, "You're allowed to still be grieving, Cecilia."

"Not now," The redhead hissed, turning from Ellie, and cursing how suddenly, even in spite of her efforts to settle her thoughts, they had returned with a vengeance in all but seconds, flat, "I can't—this is about Beth. It's about Mark, and Chloe and—and Danny. Not me."

"But none of them expect you to be perfectly together! They know what you went through, and I'm sure they know this is just bringing it all back."

"That's just it, though. I don't want them to be thinking about that! Not when they should be focusing on themselves!"

It wasn't until after she had said the words that Cecilia realized she had not bothered to lower her voice, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she gathered two of the teacups and prepared to venture back out to the den. She hated that she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her, especially when all that Ellie was trying to do was help. But inasmuch as she wanted to try and make it right, she somehow knew, just by the way in which her sister-in-law followed behind her without a word, that all was already forgiven, her attention turning once again towards the prospect of what she faced back in the den, as she moved out of the kitchen, and prayed with all she had that she could maintain her composure until she had a moment alone.

If nothing else, she supposed, she could use the still semi-suspicious glance that Hardy fixed upon her after she had resumed her place on the armrest of the sofa near Chloe as a mooring line, keeping her mildly aggravated instead of broken-hearted as the family continued to go over their movements in the days preceding Danny's death.

…

Some time later, Cecilia found herself back in Beth's kitchen once again, washing out the teacups in the sink in spite of Beth's insistence that she ought to be taking care of that, herself. Ellie had already ventured off with Mark, at his own request, to make a proper identification of the body that had been found at the beach earlier that morning. But no matter how she wished that she could believe some mistake had been made—that Mark would return to them and say that it was not Danny, after all, Cecilia could not even begin to hold out that much hope, a slow and shaky exhalation escaping as she placed the last of the teacups on the towel beside the sink to air dry, and reached down to drain the soapy water in the same motion.

She did not notice that she had not, in fact, been alone for a few moments, now, until she turned to reach for a spare dish towel to use to dry her hands, only to emit a startled gasp as she took note of the figure leaning against the doorframe. Once again, her cheeks had started to burn, this time in response to the fact that she had very nearly dropped the towel, but for the lucky scramble she had made to grab for it and place it back upon the counter, her eyes reluctantly meeting her companion's as she lifted a brow in anticipation of whatever justification he intended to give for his presence in the kitchen alongside her.

"Miller says your boy is—was—Danny's friend, as well."

"He was," Cecilia confirmed, folding her arms across her chest in hopes that it would channel the protective instinct that reared up as soon as Cedric was mentioned into a gesture that did not provoke suspicion, "Though I'm not sure how that's relevant—"

"We'll be needing to question him. With another adult present, of course," Hardy supplied, noting that whatever vulnerability he had seen in the young woman's features prior to this point had rather quickly fallen away to be replaced by an almost icy neutrality, instead, "Miller's boy—"

"Tom."

"What?"

"His name is Tom," Cecilia began, chafing under the assumption that Hardy had not even attempted to use her nephew's name, and deciding to inform the man of her son's as well, whether that decision was a wise one or not, "And my boy's Cedric."

"Right. Well, we'll be questioning Miller's—Tom—as well. To get an idea of what might have been going on in Danny's life before—"

"Before he was murdered."

"We don't know that that's what it is, yet," Hardy cautioned, his hands slipping inside his trouser pockets and shifting from foot to foot before going on, "He must have had a reason for being out on the cliffs that time of night."

"The reason wasn't suicide, if that's what you're thinking."

"Didn't say that, now did I?"

"You didn't have to. It's written all over your face," Cecilia retorted, picking at the sleeve of her scrubs, and averting her gaze almost as soon as she realized she was likely not earning herself any favors by being this antagonistic, "I—I'm sorry, I just—I'm like a bloody great fish out of water, here."

"I think we all are. You married?"

"What?"

"I—are you married?" Hardy repeated, stifling an oath as the question rendered the young woman stood before him once again on her guard, her posture tensing as she shook her head and dropped both hands to her sides.

"I'm not. Not anymore."

"Bad split?"

"You could say that," Cecilia murmured, taking a step backward as though the DI's presence was far too stifling even at a few feet away, and bringing up a hand unconsciously to rest upon the gold band secured around her neck with a matching colored chain, "Why do you ask?"

"We're going to need an adult to be in the room when your boy—"

"Cedric."

"When Cedric is interviewed," Hardy finished, watching the young woman carefully as she looked absolutely anywhere but at him while he went on, "It might be helpful if your husband could be there."

"That's not going to be possible."

"He out of the country?"

"No," Cecilia denied, her voice cracking in spite of herself as she forced her eyes to meet Hardy's, and squared her shoulders as though daring her body to betray her by portraying even a sliver of the weakness that she felt stealing through her frame in response to the confession she would soon be forced to disclose, "He's not—he's not out of the country."

"Where is he, then?" The DI pressed, his eyes never once leaving Cecilia's features as she seemed to wrestle with her own thoughts for a brief moment, before she had folded her arms over her chest once again, and forced herself to kook him in the eye as she replied.

"He's dead. For near two years, now. It's just—it's just me, and Ced. So, if anyone's going to be in there with him when he's interviewed, it's going to be me."

Before Hardy could say another word, Cecilia brushed past him and headed back towards the den to look after Beth, her gaze rooted rather firmly upon the ground as she passed. In truth, she hated the idea of Ced being brought into this at all, no matter how she knew that it was all part of a routine investigation. But whether she wanted him to be involved, or not, perhaps what she dreaded even more was the reality she would soon face, herself, as soon as she and Ellie were free to return home, and she would be forced to tell him how he had just lost another person he loved.

She had already put him through that, once, and to say anything other than that having to do so again was breaking her heart in two would have been a lie.

…


	3. Past and Present

Some hours later, after ensuring that Beth was safely tended to in the care of both her mother and her husband, Cecilia found herself pulling into the drive of her brother's home, her nerves entirely shot after what felt like ages of keeping her own emotions in check. In truth, she was absolutely exhausted, despite not feeling as though she had done much of anything productive throughout the entire day. And although some small part of her was hoping that Ellie would have already returned home from work, as well, by the time she arrived, she found that she appeared to have been the first to turn up, a small sigh escaping as she emerged from her vehicle, and began to head towards the front door.

It would have been a lie to say that she had even the first clue of how she was supposed to break the news of Danny's death to her boy, and that realization had her chewing distractedly at her lower lip, even after the sound of the door swinging open and revealing her brother standing there reached her ears.

"Hey—was wondering when you were gonna turn up," He said, stepping back so that Cecilia could move into the foyer, and almost immediately noticing that her lower lip had started to tremble, despite how fiercely she was trying to avoid it, "You—you were at Beth's?"

"Yeah, I was," Cecilia confirmed, her voice breaking mid-sentence, and causing her to avert her gaze to her feet in hopes that she could somehow persuade the tears that had begun to prick at her eyes to disappear, "It was—God, Joe, it was awful."

"I can only imagine. Come here—"

Eager to give in to the excuse for some meager form of comfort, despite the fact that she knew on some level it would only make her emotions that much more difficult to avoid, Cecilia allowed herself to be drawn into her brother's embrace, a shuddering sigh escaping before she could fully stop it. It was as though all the strength that had been required to at least attempt to keep herself together at Beth and Mark's had suddenly been leached from her bones, leaving her with absolutely nothing to stand against the renewed onslaught of grief that came over her in waves. Before she fully realized it, she was sobbing against her brother's shoulder, the weight of his arms around her waist only tightening as a result. But, as though she had realized the potential risk of such a thing almost as soon as she had given into it, Cecilia was soon pulling herself back and doing her best to dry her eyes, her voice still trembling just a bit as she shook herself and stepped just a bit further into the foyer so that Joe could shut the door behind her.

"I—I'm sorry," She began, clearing her throat, and wincing as the act brought about a small spasm of pain in response, "I shouldn't—if Ced or Tom come down—"

"They won't," Joe replied, following along after his sister as she almost immediately made her way to the kitchen, and slumped down in one of the chairs at the table, near where Fred was toying with a small helping of yogurt in his highchair, "I heard some rather intense talk about a rematch in some video game or another on the drive home."

"I suppose, given the circumstances, that's a good thing. Do they—"

"Do they know? No. I thought it would be best if you and Ellie were here, first. Maybe we could—tell them together?"

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe we could," Cecilia agreed, silently relieved that she might not have to face telling Cedric the news on her own, and somehow sensing that perhaps Joe was every bit as relieved as she was just by one glance at his face, "Are you—are you okay with all of this?"

"I think I should be asking you that question, Cissy."

"Why is that?"

"You know why," Joe said, taking the seat across from his sister, and reaching for her hand before she had the forethought to pull away, "You can't possibly think you're going to get away with telling me you're alright with this."

"Of course I'm not alright with it! I—what Beth and Mark must be going through—I can't even imagine."

"That's not exactly what I was referring to."

"Please don't, Joe. Don't make me admit to reliving it," Cecilia begged, then, silently cursing the seemingly permanent crack to her voice that made itself known every other word or so, though she did her best to continue speaking, regardless, "I can't. If I say it out loud, I think I'll lose my mind."

"Okay. Okay," Joe agreed, giving Cecilia's hand a small squeeze, and frowning as he watched her clearly struggling to maintain her composure, despite the fact that had she broken down then and there he would not have minded one bit, "What do you need me to do?"

"Just—distract me? At least for right now."

"I can do that. Any preferences as to the methods of said distraction?"

"Maybe a glass of wine wouldn't hurt."

"Duly noted. White or red."

"Surprise me," Cecilia shrugged, leaning forward until both of her elbows rested upon the table, and massaging her temples with both hands as though she truly thought the gesture would stand a chance in hell at reliving the throbbing in her head. Some small part of her knew that perhaps alcohol was not the best choice, given her burgeoning headache, and the prospect of having to possess the mental fortitude to be there for Cedric when he finally learned the truth of what had happened that day. But a still greater part of her was honestly craving the brief ignorance that something like a large glass of wine could provide, her gaze carefully tracking her brother's movements as he withdrew two wine glasses from the cupboard and set off to the pantry for a fresh bottle to fill them with.

"You know, we haven't done this in a while, you and I," Joe remarked, his voice slightly muffled as he was still rummaging around in the pantry, apparently for the sole purpose of emerging a few moments later with not only a bottle of red wine, but a packet of biscuits as well, "It's nice."

"I won't argue with you there. Just wish the circumstances were different."

"You and me both, Cis. You and me both."

"How does a family heal from something like that?" Cecilia pressed, her brow furrowing as she recognized the potential folly of continuing to discuss the matter, and yet finding herself completely incapable of stopping herself from going on, regardless, "How are you supposed to just—lose a child, and keep on living? Because if—if anything happened to Ced, I don't think I could."

"Cecilia—"

"I couldn't. Any more than I think you could, if something happened to Tom. Or Fred."

"You're right. I couldn't," Joe acknowledged, setting the bottle of wine beside the sink in the kitchen, and then proceeding to carry the two filled glasses towards the table, and his sister's waiting hands. He could practically taste her distress, though she was doing a rather remarkable job of keeping it contained, at least for the moment. And, not for the first time he caught himself wondering exactly how much more the world intended to heap at her feet, and Cedric's as well, a small frown marring his features before he handed her the wine glass in his right hand, and took a seat across from her once again, "But I'd try. For—for Ellie."

"That's just it, Joe. After Ced, I don't—I don't have anyone else."

"What, I'm chopped liver, then?"

"No. No, that's not what I meant," Cecilia corrected, pausing for just long enough to take a sip or two of her wine, and exhaling softly before meeting her brother's gaze head-on, "I just meant in terms of a cohesive family unit—"

"You haven't got anyone but Ced."

"Yeah."

"Well nothing is going to happen to him. Or Tom, or Fred," Joe assured, watching as his sister took to looking at the stem of her wine glass as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world, and swallowing once as though to steel his nerves before going on, "I'm not going to let it."

"You can't control it, Joe. No one can."

"I can bloody well try."

Before Cecilia could make any attempt at acknowledging that statement one way or another, however, the sudden sound of an exasperated sigh and the thud of boots being toed off reached their ears from the foyer, alerting them both to Ellie's return home. Almost immediately, Joe was moving to stand, while his wife appeared in the doorway soon thereafter. And although she did not entirely trust herself to be able to look Ellie in the eye, given what they had experienced together earlier that day, Cecilia forced herself to do so, regardless, the utter exhaustion she noted in her sister in law's features provoking a frown as she moved to stand as well, and watched as Joe pulled his wife into a comforting embrace.

"There she is," He announced, pulling back just enough to drop a kiss upon Ellie's cheek, and then turning back just a bit to glance towards Cecilia, though his arm did not stray from its place around his wife's shoulders, "Just poured this one a glass of wine. Care for one, yourself?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Ellie replied, her expression belying the true exasperation inherent in the remark as she pulled away from Joe's hold as gently as she could, and made her way towards Freddie instead, "Well look at you, still up and about, and eating yogurt."

"Wearing it, more like."

"Yes, well, either way it's a good thing to see."

"How's the new boss?"

In response to the question, Ellie's shoulders seemed to almost immediately deflate, her entire body slumping into the chair beside where Cecilia had once again resumed her seat while one hand lifted to support her chin upon the palm of her hand while Joe went about pouring a third glass of wine. Just to look at her, it was obvious she had bene put through the ringer, perhaps even more so since she had left the Latimer's with Mark in tow to identify Danny's body. And somehow, in the face of her own distracted thoughts, Cecilia found herself more than willing to latch onto the question her brother had just asked, her attention zeroing in on Ellie as she accepted the proffered glass of wine and took a sip before she replied.

"I'll give you one guess."

"Bloody brilliant?"

"Not likely," Ellie scoffed, managing a faint twitch of the lips in response to her husband's attempt at a joke, and dragging her free hand through her dark hair with an exasperated sigh before going on, "Just ask Cecilia what she thought of him. She's the one who's the good judge of character."

"What—you met him, too?"

"Yeah, at Mark and Beth's," Cecilia confirmed, aware of Joe's almost incredulous expression, and managing what she hoped would be a noncommittal shrug as she attempted to elaborate without allowing her personal opinions to color her words too freely, "He um—well, you can definitely tell he's not from around here."

"That good, eh?"

"Worse," Ellie cut in, managing another sip or two of wine, and wincing a bit as her apparent fervor nearly caused her to choke, "He's dead set on interviewing the boys, no matter what I say about it."

"Tom and Ced?" Joe questioned, blue eyes going wide with obvious shock, as he glanced between his wife and sister as though hoping one of them might say something to the contrary, as though the whole affair was just a sorry attempt at a joke, "What for?"

"They were close to Danny, Joe. Maybe they know something about what might have happened to him."

"If they'd have known, wouldn't they have said something?"

"Maybe not," Ellie admitted, her brow furrowing in response to the potential implications of her own words, though she seemed to shake herself before she could become too troubled as a result, "And he—Cissy, he said something about wanting to talk to you, too."

"But he already did!" Cecilia protested, a sudden prickle of dread causing gooseflesh to erupt upon her skin, while a shiver made its way painstakingly down her spine, "In the kitchen, at Mark and Beth's."

"I got the feeling he was not too sure it was all that thorough of a conversation."

"Really?"

"He said you weren't very forthcoming," Ellie confessed, registering the way in which Cecilia's body seemed to immediately tense, and hurrying on to waylay the possibility of her coming to the wrong conclusion and thinking that she was siding with her new boss, in the process, "Of course, I tried telling him he really shouldn't expect you to be, given the situation."

"But he wasn't convinced."

"No. Not in the slightest."

"Well he certainly sounds impressive," Joe surmised, blanching a bit at the look he received from not only his sister, but Ellie as well, and holding out a hand to waylay their imminent protests for long enough for him to explain his meaning, "Easy, I didn't mean it in a good way."

"When does he—when does he want to do this, then?" Cecilia asked, her fingers still running idly up and down the stem of her wine glass, as though doing so would stand a chance at stopping the trembling that had made itself so apparent in every muscle she possessed.

"Whenever convenient, was what he said. I told him to give you a couple days, at least."

"Thank you, Ellie."

"Of course."

"What about the boys? When are they supposed to—come in?"

"I think that's going to have to be up to the two of you," Ellie advised, resignation coloring her tone as she glanced between her husband, and sister in law, and frowned a bit as she finished her thought out loud, "Boss says they need an adult present, and it can't be me."

"He can't think that—that Tom and Ced had anything to do with it," Joe pressed, his expression an equal mix of horror and what might have been a touch of anger as well as he watched Ellie carefully, as though hanging upon her every word, "They were best friends."

"He can think whatever he wants, Joe, that's the whole point. We just have to hope that the interviews are one offs, and that will be that."

"Do we need to consider a solicitor?" Cecilia added, the thought of her boy being subjected to any of that causing her gut to clench in protest, though she was not about to put him through rigorous questioning without one, if the situation required.

"No. No, Cissy, we're not there yet. And I can promise you, if he tries to take this there, he'll be hearing a hell of a lot more from me before he can."

"Do I need one?"

"No," Ellie rather firmly denied, her heart sinking in response to the almost automatic assumption Cecilia seemed to hold that she would be blamed, yet again, for something she could never have done in a million years. She could recall all of the phone conversations from two years ago. The hysteria that had been so apparent in her sister in law's voice as she came to doubt her own actions so fiercely that she was very nearly hospitalized, herself, in the wake of her husband's death. Adrian's parents had not helped, of course, though neither one of them would have ever seen themselves as being even remotely in the wrong. And, not for the first time, Ellie found herself wishing she could have taken leave from her job then to venture to the States to be by her friend's side, her lips curving into a frown for a moment before she was reaching for Cecilia's hand, and giving it a squeeze in hopes of providing encouragement and strength.

"You are not responsible for this, Cecilia. Not any more than Beth, or Mark, or Chloe, or any of the rest of us. And I don't want you to spend a single minute thinking otherwise, alright?"

"Alright," Cecilia acknowledged, managing a nod and a shaky breath as she caught herself blinking back tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and averted her eyes to the half-empty glass of wine in her hands until the sound of muted footfalls from the staircase caught her attention, and effectively pulled the gaze of all three adults in the room to the doorway beside the dining area just as their boys came into view, and Cedric broke the silence that had risen up between them with an unsuspecting smile, and a question that had Cecilia's heart stuttering within her chest as she realized she had completely forgotten about her promise from earlier that day.

"Mum? What about the fish and chips?"

It looked like she would be telling him about Danny sooner, rather than later, particularly as she knew he was perceptive enough to see any other attempt at explaining her absent-mindedness as what it so clearly would have been…

A lie.

…

Several hours later, Cecilia found herself curled on her side in her own bed, eyes wide open as though the mere suggestion of sleep would be ludicrous, as well as impossible to achieve. She, Ellie, and Joe had told their boys what had happened, of course, and had done their best to be supportive in spite of their own grief as Tom and Cedric processed the news in mere moments, flat. None of them had seen the need to tell their sons about the impending interview with the police, of course, choosing instead to focus on ensuring they both knew that they were not alone. That they could come to any one of the three of them for anything they needed, at any time of the day or night, and that this wound was one that would take time to heal, and that was alright. But, regardless of how well, at least relatively speaking, the entire conversation had gone, Cecilia could not shake her nagging sense of failure, regardless, the knowledge that her son had once again lost someone who was such an integral part of his life eating away at her mind until she could think of nothing else.

She knew, of course, that Ellie had been right all along. No matter what, this was not her fault. Adrian had not been her fault. But regardless of that knowledge, Cecilia could not quite help herself from circling back to the memory of the accusing glances she received from Adrian's parents. From the police, for that matter, as well. And she would have been a fool not to realize that her actions earlier today when it came to the few questions Ellie's boss had asked her may very well have earned her still more suspicion from the authorities, as they were, a low groan escaping before she could fully stop it as she flopped over on her back and lifted her arm to cover her eyes in the same motion.

God how could she have been so bloody stupid?

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Ad?" She whispered, squeezing her eyes closed and struggling to maintain calm breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth, despite the fact that she could feel the tension brought about by the day's events ratcheting up once more, "I can't put Ced through this again—"

"Mum?"

"Hey—hey, sweetheart. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Cedric said, his voice belying his exhaustion as he stumbled his way into his mother's bedroom, one hand rubbing at an eye, though that did not stop him from noticing how she quickly lifted a hand to her cheeks as though to dash away some errant tears, "You alright?"

"That is a question I should be asking you," Cecilia countered, scooting over on the mattress, and patting the space beside her with her left hand, though Cedric did not need to seem any extra encouragement to clamber up beside her, "Last I looked, I was the mom in this relationship, you know."

"You are. But I know you better than you think, Mum."

"Is that your way of saying I'm an open book?"

"Maybe," Cedric confessed, one shoulder lifting up in a shrug before he was scooting just a bit closer towards Cecilia, and she almost instinctively wound her arm around his shoulders to draw him close against her side, "You—you don't have to do this on your own."

"Do what on my own?" Cecilia inquired, resting her cheek upon her son's dark hair, while he simultaneously took the opportunity to lean his head against her shoulder as though he was determined to get as close to her as he possibly could before he replied.

"This. Focus on being so strong for me that you never take care of yourself."

"That's my job, sweetheart. It's what I want to do, for you."

"But I don't want it to be," Cedric insisted, craning his head around so that he could look his mother in the eye, and biting his lip for a moment in the wake of the slight quiver he could see in her lower lip before speaking once more, "I want you to have someone to turn to, too."

"I have someone to turn to, Ced. I have your Uncle Joe. And your Aunt Ellie," Cecilia assured, waiting until Cedric had realigned his head upon her shoulder before giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze with her arm, and exhaling slowly to give herself the briefest of moments to gather her thoughts in hopes that what she said next would make any sense at all, "But my most important priority is going to be making sure you're alright. That would be the case whether we were going through anything bad, or not."

"You're sure?"

"Oh sweetheart, of course I am. I promise you, there is nothing else I would rather be doing. Nothing at all, okay?"

"Okay," Cedric managed, nodding against his mother's shoulder, before squirming just a bit against her frame, and reaching out to fiddle with a stray thread on the duvet before exhaling in a rush and pulling away just a bit so that he could look her in the eye, "Can I—would it be weird if I stayed here, tonight? With—with you?"

"Not at all," Cecilia encouraged, some of the tension she had been holding so tightly she thought she would break from the pressure easing just a bit at the suggestion, while she simultaneously relinquished her hold upon her son's shoulders so that he could settle in beneath the covers, and she could do the same. In next to no time at all, they were both comfortably tucked in, Cecilia's arm draping over his side after she had leaned across to turn off the light beside the bed. But before either of them could make any attempt at drifting off to sleep, now that they were not faced with complete and total solitude, Cecilia found herself startled by the hushed sound of her son's whisper, his body tensing for just a bit beneath her arm as he inhaled sharply as if to steel his nerves before he spoke.

"Mum?"

"Yes, love?"

"Am I—will I have to talk to the police?"

Knowing that it would do neither of them any good for her to lie, Cecilia settled for a faint nod of confirmation, her nose scrunching just a bit as she cursed herself for the gesture in mere seconds, flat, as it would have been impossible for Cedric to see it with his back turned. Some small part of her still did not trust her voice to keep from wavering, her recollection of sitting through the interviews with the police once before in the wake of Adrian's death coming back with a vengeance despite her valiant efforts to stop it. They had been none too sympathetic of the fact that she was a grieving widow. That her boy was only nine. And inasmuch as she was very reluctant to allow her boy to go through the same thing once again, Cecilia knew that she really had very little choice, her arm giving Ced's middle a gentle squeeze before she finally gathered the wherewithal to reply.

"Yeah, love. You will," She began, aware of how her boy had tensed still further in response to her words, and seeking to remedy that reality as quickly as she could, "But Tom's got to do it, too, and so do I. I promise you, it's just—it's just going to be routine."

"What if it's not?"

"Ced—"

"What if it's not?" Cedric persisted, squirming around until he could comfortably glance back over his shoulder to better gauge his mother's expression, while his teeth chewed nervously at his lower lip as well, "What if it's like—like before?"

"It won't be," Cecilia assured, willing herself to put as much emphasis on those words as she could, regardless of the fact that she hardly dared believe them, on her own, and lifting her hand to brush a stray strand of Cedric's dark hair away from his brow, before leaning up on her opposite elbow to press a kiss against his cheek.

"And if it even starts to go that way, I'll put an end to it, no questions asked."

"That your way of saying you'll be their worst nightmare?" Ced teased, his tone still hushed, though the nature of the question did more than enough to make Cecilia smile as she realized his fears seemed, at least for the moment, to have been put to the side.

"Definitely. Anyone wants a go at you, they're going to have to go through me first. That's just all there is to it."

Whether it made her look suspicious or not, Cecilia would be damned if she allowed her son to be treated in such a way again…

Come hell or high water, she would do everything within her power to keep him safe.

…


End file.
